Music
21 Apr 05

10,000 Things

10,000 Things' songs have a brutalised air, as though they were bullied into existence. Fitful guitars prowl the mix in search of a melody or, failing that, a purpose, while front-man Sam Riley yelps in a manner that suggests he’s about to have his throat slashed. For such reasons, their self-titled debut feels less like a statement of intent than an obstacle course through the muck. Opener 'Self Destruct' is as tired and tattered as an old denim jacket; a putatively anthemic 'Titanium Boxer Shorts' suffers delusions of tunefulness.

One could without effort muster 10,000 reasons for dismissing this gobby Leeds six-piece, but space is limited and life short so let’s confine ourselves to the cardinal offences.
Hawking a bluesy, blustering riff on The Libertines’ gutter-pop formula, 10,000 Things confuse attitude for creative daring, posturing for emotional reach.
Their songs have a brutalised air, as though they were bullied into existence. Fitful guitars prowl the mix in search of a melody or, failing that, a purpose, while front-man Sam Riley yelps in a manner that suggests he’s about to have his throat slashed.
For such reasons, their self-titled debut feels less like a statement of intent than an obstacle course through the muck. Opener 'Self Destruct' is as tired and tattered as an old denim jacket; a putatively anthemic 'Titanium Boxer Shorts' suffers delusions of tunefulness.
What especially grates is 10,000 Things' evident pride in their outsider status. They relish your scorn; it seems to empower them. With Leeds emerging as the fountainhead of the new britpop, 10,000 Things have been tagged the Yorkshire Oasis and burgle the Gallaghers’ ‘Us against the world’ stance.
Lamentably, they forget to pinch the Mancs’ knack for a useful hook. Instead we get the same two-chord boilerplate, regurgitated with deepening desperation. 10, 000 Things – your number is up.